Elizabeth's War
by Flybie99
Summary: 'The War has taken a great toll on us all - but he was the one that had to suffer the losses of his country; the one that had to experience the pain that we all felt. He is the real hero of this war.'
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! I decided that there weren't enough stories containing Elizabeth II, so I wrote this one. I've researched it and all the facts are true that are included, so there's some history for you! Hope you enjoy it!**

It was raining.

Fat, heavy droplets spattered against the window panes of Windsor Castle, making wet trails down the glass. Outside in the grounds, trees and bushes were hunched over, trying in vain to find some sort of protection against the howling wind.  
Elizabeth Windsor pulled her legs up beneath her and pressed her cheek to the cold glass, watching as rain streaked down just centimetres from her face. The drive and the road leading up to the castle were both completely devoid of cars, and Elizabeth sighed deeply, noting with vague interest that the glass turned translucent as her breath hit it. Shivering slightly, she tucked her dress around her feet to keep the heat in and buried her head in the soft fabric.  
"Your highness?"  
Elizabeth lifted her head from where it had been resting and turned to face the door. A motherly-looking woman with a wrap around her head was standing in the doorway, balancing a tea-tray on the tips of her fingers as her other hand tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.  
"Would Your Highness appreciate a cup of tea?" she asked.  
"Yes, thank you, Clara. That would be most lovely."  
The woman, Clara, smiled and swept into the room, her petticoats swishing around her plump figure.  
"Have you done your numbers for today, Your Highness?" she asked as she lifted an elaborately decorated cup from the tray and set it by the window seat where Elizabeth had been sitting. "You know how Miss Crawford likes you to do your numeracy..."  
"Yes, I did that this morning," Elizabeth said absently, raising the cup to her lips.  
"Careful, it's hot," Clara warned, seizing the tray again and moving towards the door. "What times tables did you learn?"  
"The sixth and the seventh," Elizabeth said, yawning widely and settling back into the window seat.  
"Cover your mouth when you yawn," said Clara immediately. "It's unladylike to yawn like that."  
Elizabeth nodded doggedly and turned to face the window again, listening as Clara bustled from the room. Pressing her nose to the glass, she squinted myopically through the rain.  
There was a car pulling into the driveway.  
In an instant she was on her feet and sprinting from the room, almost knocking Clara over as she barrelled past.  
"Your Highness!" she cried as Elizabeth skidded round the corner and down the next flight of stairs. "Why are you going so fast?"  
Elizabeth didn't stop to answer. Jumping the last two steps, she dashed down the final corridor and burst into the entrance hall, just as the front door opened.  
"Mama! Papa!" she cried delightedly as two people hurried inside, huddled beneath a dripping umbrella.  
The man, George VI, looked up and smiled at her. "Elizabeth," he said. "Have you behaved yourself?"  
"I have been very good, Papa! I helped Clara make chocolate biscuits yesterday and I saved you and Mama some!"  
"Good girl," he said, shaking off the umbrella. "Quieten down, though; your Mama has a headache."  
"I can deal with that, Your Majesty," said a voice, and Elizabeth turned to see Clara walking into the room, still holding the tea tray. "I'll make you a nice cup of tea and then we can tuck you up nicely in bed."  
"Thank you ever so much, Miss Knight," said George, guiding his wife towards the kitchen. When she was settled at the table with a mug of tea, he turned back to Elizabeth, his face unusually grave.  
"Elizabeth? A word in my study, if you please."  
Elizabeth frowned, but followed her father obediently into the room.  
It was rather small, with a large mahogany desk taking up much of the space. The walls were covered with cork boards that had notes pinned to them with different coloured pins, and sheets of paper were strewn everywhere, making it seem as though it had snowed indoors.  
"Take a seat," said George, and Elizabeth, confused, dropped into a seat opposite the desk at which her father sat.  
"I visited Mr Kirkland yesterday," he said, looking seriously at her over steepled fingers.  
Elizabeth felt her heart leap excitedly. "Oh! How is he?"  
George sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. "Not good."  
"Wh-what?" Elizabeth said, feeling fear tug at her guts. "What do you mean, not good?'  
"The war's affecting him badly, poor chap. We've lost so many lives... For him, it's like losing a part of himself."  
"No!" Elizabeth cried, leaping to her feet. "He has to be alright!"  
"Sit down, Elizabeth," her father said sternly, and she sank back into the chair. "I've invited him over here for a while to try and lower the stress level; let him relax for a while. You can see him then."  
Elizabeth's spirits couldn't help but soar. "Oh, really?" she said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. "I suppose...that will help."  
"Good girl," her father said again. "Now go and finish your numbers."  
Elizabeth stood up and left the room, allowing a grin to spread across her face. She was going to see him again; one of her favourite people in the world.  
But as she lay in bed that night, thinking over the events of the day, she couldn't help but wonder how much her father had been hiding about his condition.  
Rolling over in bed, she gazed out of the window opposite, thinking about the day when his car would roll up the drive.  
"Arthur," she whispered, and with that, she let herself drift away into sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Greetings! I have here the second chapter of Elizabeth's War. I will introduce other characters (Germany, America, etc.) later on. If you like the story, give it a review - I'm always delighted to hear from my readers!**

It was the thunder that awoke her.  
The first clap seemed to shake the house, jolting Elizabeth out of her slumber. The room was lit momentarily with white light as lightning streaked across the sky, harsh and sudden, like a slap to the face.  
Swinging her legs out of bed, Elizabeth stood up and stumbled to the window seat, peering out into the darkness. Rain was lashing the window again, fiercer than the day before, as though it was attempting to break through the walls of the castle.  
A second flash of lightning split the sky, and Elizabeth felt the hairs on her bare arms stand on end. As though in a dream, she reached out a paper-white hand and slipped open the catch on the window. Immediately, a blast of freezing air hit her directly in the face, accompanied by a fair amount of rain.  
More thunder.  
More lightning.  
Elizabeth felt a smile spread across her damp face as she felt the electricity buzzing in her flesh; tingling in the marrow of her bones.  
"Beautiful," she said aloud, and her voice sounded strange; alien: not her voice at all. She said it again, listening to the way it echoed in the darkened room; mingling with the rain pounding on the roof.  
"Your Highness?"  
Elizabeth whirled around, a scream rising in her throat. A figure was standing in the doorway, holding a candle up to their face.  
"Clara," she breathed, weak with relief.  
"What are you doing out of bed at this time?" Clara frowned, moving forwards and raising the candle to illuminate Elizabeth's face. "And why are you soaked through?"  
"Oh, that," Elizabeth said in what she hoped was an offhand tone. "I left the window open, and when I went to shut it, it blew open in my face."  
The lie came easily, as many others had prior to it.  
"Oh. That's alright, then," Clara said, but she still looked slightly suspicious. Elizabeth did her best to look abashed.  
"Fancy a hot chocolate down in the kitchen?" the nanny said abruptly. "I went out and got some yesterday, before your Mama and Papa came home. Didn't want them to come downstairs in the night and find there was no hot chocolate left. What an embarrassment that would be!"  
Elizabeth raised her eyes to Clara's face. It was rather red.  
"Why, that would be marvellous," she said, and Clara beamed.  
"Perfect! Well, come on, dear. Get changed into your dressing gown and come downstairs when you're ready. I'll be waiting in the kitchen."

"Is it good?"  
Elizabeth looked up. "Hmm?"  
"The hot chocolate," Clara explained. "Is it good?"  
"What? Oh, yes, it is, I suppose."  
"Don't say what like that, dear. It isn't ladylike."  
Elizabeth sighed and leant back, rocking the chair onto its back legs.  
"Don't do that, dear," said Clara. "If you fall and break your neck, what'll become of your future prospects as Her Majesty, hmm?"  
Elizabeth bit back the retort she was longing to utter. She knew Clara was only trying to be helpful, but still...  
"It'll be nice to have young Mr Kirkland over, won't it?" Clara said, and Elizabeth's interest was instantly aroused.  
"Yes, I suppose," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "I rather enjoy his company."  
"He does seem like a nice man, well enough," Clara said approvingly, "and he enjoys my Earl Grey. I said to him last time, I said: there's not many that'll understand the importance of good tea. Most'll just have a cheap batch, but good quality tea's really the business, I tell you. And he agreed with me; said that he's always bought the best quality tea bags. Are you tired, dear?"  
Elizabeth had stifled a yawn behind her hand and looked up guiltily at the sudden change of subject. "Tired? Why, yes, I suppose I am rather tired... When is Mr Kirkland arriving?"  
"Why, tomorrow, of course," said Clara casually.  
"Tomorrow?" Elizabeth gasped. "What time?"  
"Around one o'clock, your papa said. I'll make sure to brew up a good batch of Earl Grey for when he arrives. He'll be exhausted - it's going to rain all day tomorrow, and the journey's a long one: he's coming all the way from Germany."  
"Germany?" Elizabeth asked interestedly. "Why?"  
"I suppose it's another of these World Meetings," said Clara. "Are you finished with your chocolate, dear?"  
"What? Oh, yes. Tell me more about these World Meetings," said Elizabeth keenly, leaning forwards on her elbows.  
"I don't know much about them, I'm afraid. You'll have to ask Mr Kirkland about them."  
"I most certainly will," said Elizabeth, standing up. "Thank you ever so much for the hot chocolate, Clara."  
"It was my pleasure," Clara said, smiling. "Now off to bed with you. You don't want to be tired for our guest, do you?"  
As soon as the words left her lips, Elizabeth felt exhaustion wash over her. After bidding Clara good night, she climbed the stairs, collapsed into bed, and was asleep within seconds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just wanted to say thanks for the lovely review! I always appreciate knowing what my readers think! :3**

"Your Highness!"  
Elizabeth's eyes flickered open and she sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Clara?" she muttered groggily. "What is it?"  
"It's a quarter to one! You've been sleeping half the day!" the nanny said, wringing her hands. "I was going to come up and wake you, but then I decided that you needed your sleep."  
"Quarter...to one?" Elizabeth said sleepily, her sentence punctuated with a huge yawn.  
"Yes, dear, and your father went to pick up Mr Kirkland an hour ago; they're due back any minute!"  
Elizabeth gave a gasp of horror and leapt out of bed, staggering over to her dresser to start throwing clothes out at random.  
"You'd better hurry, dear, or you'll miss him!" Clara called over the rattle of drawers opening and the rustle of clothes as they hit the bed. "I'll be waiting in the kitchen."  
Elizabeth was barely listening. For once, she wished that she didn't have such a vast amount of clothes: there were so many to choose from, and she simply couldn't decide what to wear. Eventually, after many curses and swapping of garments, Elizabeth emerged from her room wearing a dark green velvet dress with a lace collar and cuffs that she deemed suitable for the dismal weather and the arrival of their guest.  
"Not too late, hmm?" Clara said as Elizabeth entered the kitchen and sank onto a chair. "I'm just boiling the water so we can all have a cup of tea when Mr Kirkland arrives. I hope he doesn't get drenched through on the way inside; it's raining buckets out there."  
Sure enough, when Elizabeth glanced out the window, it was to see the rain coming down in sheets that bent trees to the ground, and the glass panes were rattling as the howling wind smashed against them.  
"Never had weather like it," Clara muttered, setting the kettle to boil. "First we had that beautiful sunny spell, and now this!" She tutted, shaking her head. "I've heard of gods and supernatural beings, and I never considered once that those rumours could be anywhere near the truth - but now... Maybe those stories had something in them, after all. If we could just settle on one omnipotent being, it would perhaps stop all these arguments over -"  
Her sentence was cut off by the sound of the doorbell ringing. For the second time that day, Elizabeth leapt to her feet and dashed down the corridor, only slowing down when Clara bustled past her, calling, "Coming through, coming through!" as she opened the front door.  
There were three men standing on the step. Her father, the tallest, was holding an umbrella over the other two, the shorter of which appeared to be leaning on the rather rotund man that Elizabeth recognised instantly.  
"Prime Minister," she said in a respectful voice as the men entered the house and the door swung shut behind them.  
Winston Churchill looked up, his heavyset face lined and serious, though it broke into a smile when he saw her. "Your Highness," he said graciously, inclining his head. "It is quite wonderful to see you again."  
Elizabeth nodded and turned her attention to the smallest figure, smiling despite herself.  
The tousled blonde hair was the same as it always had been, though now it was damp with rain and hung limply around his face, which was grey and drawn. The enormous eyebrows which sat like furry caterpillars upon his forehead were furrowed slightly, and though he appeared to be attempting to stand upright, his firm stance could not hide the heaviness with which he was leaning on the Prime Minister. His eyes, however, had not lost that vivid green hue which had captivated Elizabeth on first meeting; they sparkled in the lamplight as he turned to look at Elizabeth, a smile lighting up his exhausted face.  
"Your Highness," he said quietly, taking her hand and pressing his lips to it.  
Churchill turned to Clara. "Is there any chance of a cup of tea, Miss...?"  
"Knight," said Clara importantly, "Clara Knight. I've got a batch of tea in the kitchen ready to be served, so if you all take a seat in the living room, I can bring that to you directly."  
Churchill thanked her, and they trooped into the living room off the entrance hall. It was a large space, decorated with paintings portraits of formidable-looking men in long, fancy robes who all looked severely down their noses at Elizabeth as she passed, and seemed to sniff in disapproval as she took a chair close to the fire.  
Churchill lowered himself into an armchair with a grunt and turned towards the fire, staring deep into the crackling flames.  
"How are you faring, Your Majesty?" he asked, without taking his eyes off the fire.  
George took the chair opposite and rested his chin on the knuckles of his right hand. "I dare say we are faring better than most, Prime Minister. There have been a few air raids, but the castle is very stable: we run no risk of injury if we keep to protocol."  
"Good, good," Churchill murmured.  
George shifted in his chair and turned to Arthur, who was seated stiffly in an armchair, his eyes reflecting the flickering fire. "And what about you, Arthur? How was the meeting? Has America agreed to join the war?"  
Arthur's face seemed to tighten. When he spoke, his voice had an edge to it that Elizabeth had never heard before.  
"No, Your Majesty. America is...most regrettably...leaving the fighting to us." He added something that Elizabeth could have sworn was "Bloody wanker."  
The door creaked open and Clara bustled in, bearing a tea tray laden with mugs and a large plate of scones.  
"There's tea enough for everyone," she announced, laying the tray down on the coffee table and handing out mugs. "Will that be all?"  
"Yes, thank you, Clara," Churchill said, and she left, standing rather taller than usual.  
A short silence followed, only broken when Churchill enquired about the World Meeting.  
"Is Germany still determined to bomb us into oblivion?" he enquired, taking a sip of tea.  
"Of course," Arthur said rather bitterly. "All of us have tried to talk some sense into him at some point, but he is completely taken with this new leader of his. Hitler appears to be more of a trouble to is than Germany does - to be able to brainwash a country like that..." He fell silent for a few seconds. "His brother's tried to persuade him, but it didn't end well. Prussia was forced to flee with Germany on his tail, insane with rage. He's taken refuge with us now, for his own safety."  
Churchill shook his head. "And Italy? Does he agree with Germany?"  
Arthur laughed humourlessly. "Italy's got his own leader now. Mussolini's not quite as bad as Hitler, but still a significant threat. Italy appears to have two minds about him, though - none of us are really sure whether he agrees with Mussolini's schemes or not."  
He gave a sudden gasp and clutched at his ribs. "God dammit," he hissed under his breath, face taught with pain.  
"Arthur?"  
Churchill, George and Elizabeth had all leapt to their feet and hurried over to where he sat, eyes shut, breathing heavily.  
"More bombings?" Churchill asked quietly, laying a hand on his arm as Arthur let out a shaky breath. He nodded once, face still twisted with pain.  
Elizabeth took one of his trembling hands in her own and squeezed it gently. Arthur looked up in surprise, and she locked eyes with him, feeling sympathy welling in her chest.  
"Are you alright, Arthur?" George said anxiously, patting him on the shoulder.  
"Yes," Arthur said in a slightly brittle voice. "Yes, thank you, Your Majesty. I am fine now."  
"Where was it this time?" Churchill queried, returning to his seat. "Not Coventry again?"  
"Sheffield," Arthur replied, his arm still resting across his ribs. "It was Sheffield, Prime Minister."  
Elizabeth didn't return to her seat. She stayed beside Arthur, watching closely as he retrieved his mug of tea and took a fortifying gulp.  
"How do you do it?" she said quietly.  
Arthur looked up, his green eyes dark. He didn't have to ask what she meant.  
"It is hard sometimes," he said slowly. "But there are others that suffer worse than I, Your Majesty."  
She nodded, but now there was a leaden weight of fear resting in her chest.  
She just had to hope with all her heart that Britain would not fall.


End file.
